Emmeline. With Some Other Pieces.

Memoir.

Immediately after Mrs Brunton's death,
various eloquent tributes were paid to her
memory in the newspapers of Edinburgh.
Her literary friends, however, have expressed
a wish, that some more detailed Memoir
of her life should be prepared; exhibiting
chiefly the history of her mind, and her habits
of composition. With that wish I have
willingly complied. It has been for twenty
years my happiness to watch the workings
of that noble mind--my chief usefulness
to aid its progress, however feebly.
Nothing is more soothing to me now, than
to dwell on the remembrance of her--nothing
more dear, than to diffuse the benefit
of her example.

I know, that I shall perform the task
very inadequately. Were I better qualified
than I am for its discharge, the relation
which I bore to her makes it needful for
me to repress feelings, upon which any
other biographer would have dwelt with
delight. But if I can make her memory
useful to one of her fellow creatures, this
is the only consideration which her sainted
spirit would prize.

======

Mary Balfour was the only daughter
of Colonel Thomas Balfour of Elwick, a
cadet of one of the most respectable families
in the county of Orkney. Her mother
was Frances Ligonier, only daughter
of Colonel Ligonier of the 13th Dragoons.

Mary was born in the Island of Burra
in Orkney, 1st of November, 1778. Her
early education was not conducted on
any regular plan. Her father, himself a
man of extraordinary talents and acquirements,
had little leisure for superintending
it, and was very often necessarily absent
from his family. Her mother had early
been left an orphan to the care of her uncle,
Field-Marshal the Earl of Ligonier;
and had been trained rather to the accomplishments
which adorn a court, than to
those which are useful in domestic life. She
was, however, a person of great natural
acuteness, and of very lively wit; and her
conversation, original though desultory,
had no doubt considerable influence in rousing
her daughter's mind. She was assiduous,
too, in conveying the accomplishments
which she herself retained; and Mary
became, under her mother's care, a considerable
proficient in music, and an excellent
French and Italian scholar. From
these languages she was much accustomed
to translate; and there is no other habit of
her early life which tends, in any degree, to
account for the great facility and correctness
with which her subsequent compositions
were written.

When she passed the bounds of mere
childhood, the defects, under which her
early education must otherwise have laboured,
were remedied partly by a short
residence at school in Edinburgh, and, still
more, by the affectionate care of her father's
sisters; of whose kindness she entertained,
through life, the most grateful recollection.
But as a great part of her training was still
left to herself, her love for reading spent
itself on poetry and fiction. They helped
to people for her that world of her own,
which the day-dreams of youth called up
in her solitude.

At a very early age, the charge of her
father's household devolved upon her; and
the details of housekeeping in Orkney are
of so exhausting a kind, that, from her
sixteenth to her twentieth year, she could
have had very little leisure for self-improvement.

About this time, Viscountess Wentworth,
(who had formerly been the wife of Mrs
Balfour's brother, the second Earl Ligonier,)
proposed that Mary, her god-daughter,
should reside with her in London.
What influence this alteration might have
had on her after life, is left to be matter of
conjecture. She preferred the quiet and
privacy of a Scotch parsonage. We were
married in her twentieth year; and went to
reside at Bolton, near Haddington.

Her time was now much more at her
own command. Her taste for reading returned
in all its strength, and received rather
a more methodical direction. Some
hours of every forenoon were devoted by
her to this employment; and, in the evening,
I was in the habit of reading aloud to
her, books chiefly of criticism and Belles
Lettres. Among other subjects of her attention,
the philosophy of the human mind
became a favourite study with her, and she
read Dr Reid's works with uncommon
pleasure. She renewed her acquaintance
with our best historians. Her ear was peculiarly
gratified with the music of Dr
Robertson's style; and she used often to
say, that she looked upon his account of
the first voyage of Columbus, as the most
attractive and finished narrative which she
had ever perused.

She added a little German to her acquisitions
in language.

She repeatedly began, but as often relinquished,
the study of mathematics. Where
the address to the intellect was direct and
pure, she was interested and successful.
But a single demonstration by means of
the reductio ad absurdum, or of applying
one figure to another in order to show
their identity, never failed to estrange her
for a long time from the subject.

Her reading was useful to her, rather as
strengthening her general habits of attention,
than as leading to marked proficiency
in any one branch of study. Her memory,
not having been systematically cultivated
in early life, was less powerful than her
other faculties. She retained the substance
of what she read, less by remembering the
words of the author, than by thinking over
the subject for herself, with the aid of the
new lights which he had opened to her
mind.

I do not know that, during her residence
in East Lothian, she wrote anything
beyond an ordinary letter. Even her letters
at this period were few. Indeed her
correspondents were always very limited
in number. To letter-writing, as either an
employment in itself, or as a recreation,
she had an utter dislike.

East Lothian, in general, is not distinguished
for landscape beauty. But the situation
of the Manse of Bolton is pretty,
and there is some fine scenery on the banks
of the stream which washes it. These
close and wooded banks formed a singular
contrast to the bare flats, and the magnificent
sea-prospects of Orkney;--a contrast
which deepened the impression of both,
and helped to form that habit of observing
the varieties and beauties of nature,
which afterwards became so marked a feature
of her mind. She now taught herself
to draw; sufficiently, at least, to sketch
with facility and truth any object or scene
which peculiarly pleased her.

Her various employments were never
allowed to interfere with each other. An
arrangement of her time was made; to
which, as far as is possible for the mistress
of a family, she strictly adhered.

Two East Indian wards of mine became
inmates of the family while we resided in
East Lothian. Her care of them was truly
maternal. She took a deep interest especially
in their religious education; and, in
instilling into them the principles of their
belief, she was led very carefully to re-examine
her own. For this important work
she had greater facilities now, than she had
enjoyed at any former period; and she applied
herself to it with all her characteristic
ardour. Through the grace of God, it
gradually led her both to the "knowledge
and to the love of the truth as it is in Christ;"
to that "anchor of the soul sure and stedfast,"
on which her hope leaned through
life, and was nobly sustained in the near
prospect of dissolution. The Shorter Catechism
of our Church was the form on which
she grounded her instructions to her young
pupils; and while, with anxious and successful
assiduity, she accommodated its language
to their capacity, she never failed to
speak in warm admiration, of the vigour
and condensation of thought by which it
is very peculiarly distinguished.

Both in her own mind, and in the minds
of her pupils, she was anxious to make religion
an active principle, to carry its influence
habitually into life. It mingled
now with all her own pursuits. She sought
knowledge, not merely for the sake of the
pleasure which it bestowed, but from a
strong sense of duty. She loved nature,
not for its own beauty alone, but for the
traces with which it abounds of the wisdom
and the love of the Creator. Her religion
was not a religion of gloom. It shed brightness
and peace around her. It gladdened
the heart which it purified and exalted.

After six years, tranquilly and happily
spent in East Lothian, she accompanied
me to Edinburgh in Autumn 1803. In
the earliest letter of hers which has come
into my possession, I find her thus regretting
her removal. The letter is addressed
to her mother.

OCT. 6, 1802.

I heartily regret the loss of my little quiet residence,
which many nameless circumstances have
endeared to me. But when I think that Mr B.,
without any object in view, might sink into indolence,--live
neglected,--and die forgotten,--I am
in part reconciled to a removal, which will make my
wants far more numerous, and my income (all
things considered) more scanty. And though I
shall never cease to regret Bolton,--though I must
want many things which I here enjoy;--and, what
is worst of all, though I can no longer expect that
Mr B. will continue so much to be, as you truly
call him, my companion and instructor; I think I
could endure any thing rather than see him, to
please me, consign himself with regret to solitude
and inaction. He is pleased with a change that gives
him something to hope for, (which here he never
could have had,) and I think I can reconcile myself
to any thing that gives him pleasure. * * *

I am engaged just now in reading a very large
book, which entertains me more than any thing I
ever read before; it is Froissart's Chronicle. The
simplicity of the narrative, its minuteness, its dramatic
effect if I may use the expression, make it
more interesting than most true histories, and more
amusing than most works of fiction. It places before
one the speakers and the actors,--living men
and women;--and their antique costume gives them
an air half-droll, half-pleasing. If the price of the
book did not place it beyond the reach of ordinary
purses, I should have besought you to buy it.

------

Hitherto she does not seem to have been
at all aware of the strength of her own
mind. Our circle of acquaintance was
small. She appeared among them scarcely
in any other light than as an active and
prudent young housewife; who submitted,
with the most cheerful good-humour, to
the inconveniences of a narrow income; but
who contrived, by method and taste, to join
comfort with some share of elegance in the
whole of her management. Few literary
people were within our reach. It was chiefly
with me that she talked of what she had
read; and, as some of the subjects were
new to her, she contracted, far more than
enough, the habit of speaking as a pupil.

It was otherwise in Edinburgh. Our
circle widened. She mingled more with
those whose talents and acquirements she
had respected at a distance. She found
herself able to take her share in their conversation;
and, though nothing could be
farther from the tone of her mind than either
pedantry or dogmatism, she came by
degrees, instead of receiving opinions implicitly,
to examine those of others, and to
defend her own. There was a freshness
and originality in her way of managing
these little friendly controversies--a playfulness
in her wit--a richness in her illustrations--and
an acuteness in her arguments,
which made her conversation attractive
to the ablest. If they were not convinced
by her reasoning, they were gratified
by her ingenuity, and by her unpretending
openness.

But the circumstance which, more than
any other beyond the range of her own domestic
intercourse, tended both to develope
her intellect, and to establish her character,
was an intimacy which she formed, soon
after her removal to Edinburgh, with a lady
in her immediate neighbourhood. They
were indeed so near, that it was easy for
them to be much together. They read together--worked
together--and talked over,
with confidential freedom, their opinions,
from minuter points to the most important
of all. In their leading views of human life
and human duty, they were fully agreed.
But whether they agreed, or whether they
differed, they benefited each other essentially--either
mutually confirming each
other in the truth, or mutually leading each
other towards it.

This intercourse continued for about six
years, when it was interrupted by Mrs
Izett's removal from Edinburgh. But it
was not, and could not be suspended altogether;
so far as letters could prolong it,
it was continued to the last, by the only
close and confidential correspondence, beyond
the bounds of her own family, in
which Mary ever engaged.

In the literary pursuits which they carried
on together, there were occasional
blanks, caused by the avocations of either.
It was chiefly for the employment of accidental
intervals of leisure, occasioned by
the more numerous engagements of her
friend, that Mrs Brunton began the writing
of Self-Control. At first its author
had no design that it should meet the eye
of the public. But as her manuscript swelled,
this design, half unconsciously, began
to mingle with her labours. Perhaps, too,
a circumstance which I remember to have
happened about this time, might have had
more weight than she was aware of in
prompting the attempt. She had often
urged me to undertake some literary work;
and once she appealed to an intimate friend
who was present, whether he would not be
my publisher. He consented readily; but
added, that he would, at least as willingly,
publish a book of her own writing. This
seemed, at the time, to strike her as something
the possibility of which had never
occurred to her before; and she asked more
than once, whether he was in earnest.

A considerable part of the first volume
of Self-Control was written before I knew
any thing of its existence. When she
brought it to me, my pleasure was certainly
mingled with surprise. The beauty
and correctness of the style--the acuteness
of observation--and the loftiness of
sentiment--were, each of them in its way,
beyond what even I was prepared to expect
from her. Any encouragement which
my approbation could give her, (and she
valued it at far more than it was worth,)
she received in the fullest measure.

From this time forward she tasked herself
to write a certain quantity every day.
The rule, of course, was often broken; but
habit had taught her that a rule was useful.
Every evening she read to me what had
been written in the course of the day; and
when larger portions were completed, she
brought the manuscript to me for more accurate
examination. I then made, in writing,
such remarks as occurred to me; and left it
to herself to decide upon them. Any little
alteration on what had been recently
written she was always willing to receive,
if she thought it an improvement. But
some changes which were suggested to her
upon the earlier parts of the story, she declined
adopting. She had what appeared
to me an undue apprehension of the trouble
which it might have cost her to assimilate
the alterations to the remainder of the
narrative. But she had little hope, from
the first, of the story being very happily
combined; and she was only the more unwilling
to aggravate, by any sudden changes,
the harshness of its construction. To its
moral usefulness she uniformly paid much
more regard than to its literary character.
In the autumn of 1809 the state of her
health made it desirable that we should
visit Harrogate. Her letters to her relations
in Orkney give a lively picture of this
little tour.

------

TO HER MOTHER.

Nov. 21, 1809.

From Carlisle we took a different route to the
Lakes from that by which I formerly went with
you. We drove, through a country as flat as the
floor, to a little village called Wigton; and from
thence to Keswick by a tremendous road; but leading
at last through the vale of Bassenthwaite, one of
the sweetest of all prairies riantes.

The day which we spent at Keswick was the
finest possible--not a breath of wind, and scarcely
a cloud on the sky. We sailed and wandered about
till it was quite dark. Great was my desire to take
up our rest there for a fortnight; for in "the
Grange," the sweet little hamlet at the mouth of
Borodale, there were a parlour and bed-chamber to
be let furnished!--Dread Lowdore is the most picturesque
waterfall I ever saw; but no more to be
compared with Moness in magnificence, than a little
coquette, tricked out in gauze and gumflowers, with
the simple majesty of Milton's Eve.

We went, as formerly, by Ambleside to Kendal.
The Lakes are truly lovely, though not quite so
unparalleled as when last I saw them; for I have
since seen Loch Lomond; nor do I think they can
once be compared in sublimity with the approach
to Loch Katrine.

Did you ever see Kirkby Lonsdale? It is the
most rural, pretty, interesting place imaginable.
It is a true English village--English in its neatness--English
in the handsomeness of its houses,
(Scotch handsome houses are seldom built in villages)--and
English, above all, in its church-yard--smooth
as velvet--green as emeralds--clean, even
to the exclusion of a fallen leaf from one of the tall
trees that surround it! From this church-yard,
situate on a high bank overhanging the river Loen,
you command a fine view of Lonsdale, rising here
and there into gentle swells--gay with woods and
villas. The river is not very English; for it is a
rapid, lively, transparent stream--not creeping sluggishly
through rich meadows, but dancing gaily to
the sun, or dashing against tiny rocks into Lilliputian
waves. * * *

Nous voila at Harrogate; and I believe there is
no place in Britain to which you would not sooner
accompany us. One hundred and forty people dine
with us daily--all dressed as fine as Punch's wife
in the puppet-show. Do but imagine the noise of
so many tongues--the bouncing, banging, and driving
of eighty waiting-men--the smell of meat sufficient,
and more than sufficient, for a hundred and
forty cormorants--and all this in the dog days!!!
* * *

Harrogate itself is a straggling village, built on
an ugly sandy common, surrounded with stunted
black Scotch firs--the only thing in shape of tree
or shrub that never can be an ornament to any possible
place. From a hill above Harrogate, there is
a view of prodigious extent, over the richest and
largest plain which I have ever seen.--York, which
is 22 miles distant, seems nearer than the middle of
the landscape. Mrs I., who is an Englishwoman,
was in extacies. For my part, I must confess,
that I think a little rising ground, or even a mountain,
no bad feature in a landscape. A scene without
a hill seems to me to be about as interesting as
a face without a nose!

This presentation of Emmeline. With Some Other Pieces., by Mary Brunton
is Copyright 2003 by P.J. LaBrocca.
It may not be copied, duplicated,
stored or transmitted in any form without written permission.
The text is in the public domain.